Borrowing a title from songwriter Paul Simon, aircraft seat design would seem to be a well-established discipline, honed after decades of experience to a fine art—but apparently it is not.
“What we have here is a failure to communicate.” The classic line from the movie Cool Hand Luke illustrates something that all pilots should clearly understand regarding drug testing as described in FARs 61.15 and 61.16 (and in DOT 49 CFR Part 40).
Memorial services are often downers, but this was so much better than sitting in a rented hotel or restaurant banquet room or, worse, a funeral home. Small airports are foreign to so many. Nonflyers marvel at the magic that pilots revere. The western sky beckoned beyond the hangar door as more than 80 people gathered to remember Charlie.
Pilots who successfully push the envelope at larger airports sometimes find difficulty at the bucolic grass strips where many go to vacation. Being aeronautically overweight is a bad idea; unbalanced is worse. And although engines should produce rated power with the aircraft configured appropriately, the aircraft has to be flown by book procedures to get expected results. Taking off on 4,000 feet of pavement usually isn’t much of a challenge—but add turf, obstructions, and slope, and it becomes more complicated. In a few cases, there just isn’t enough margin to make it all work.
Crosswinds affect all aircraft, big and small. This “Landmark Accident” illustrates that previous experience and training doesn’t always serve us well; nature is both capricious and powerful. It’s also a reminder to those of us who comment on accidents—which includes most pilots—that hindsight vision is perfect.
Controlled flight into terrain (CFIT) is the third leading cause of fatal accidents in general aviation, according to the FAA. Forgetting that altitude is relative can be disastrous. In this accident, the basics for a routine flight were overlooked and an overdependence on unavailable equipment created a catastrophe. But good, old-fashioned planning and execution still work perfectly, just as they have for more than a century. The fact that one of the pilots survived gives us a rare inside look at how this accident developed.
There’s a consensus that much of the flight training system is broken, and has been for decades. It takes too long, costs too much, and the results are “irregular”—to put it charitably. The national average completion rate for private pilot certificates is about 20 percent.
Distraction is present in one form or another in almost every accident scenario, and the priorities have to be clear as to what gets resolved first. While this Landmark Accident occurred decades ago, the message is as relevant as ever. Regardless of the number of crewmembers, some things need to be said with assertiveness. It also highlights the tremendous responsibility we have when taking to the skies and living with the aftermath of an accident.
When is a pilot in command not responsible for a takeoff gone wrong? What is the role of regulation and common sense? How do we learn from such events, and who pays afterward?
Have you ever been told that VFR was not recommended, or that there was moderate turbulence ahead, or icing—and nothing bad happened? Ever expected to have an easy flight, and all of those things happened?
One of the challenges pilots face in powered flight is what to do when the flight becomes unpowered. Clyde Cessna noted nearly a century ago that, “If the engine stops for any reason, you are due to tumble, and that’s all there is to it!”
Let’s face it, pilots sometimes find themselves in real “aw, shucks” situations. Despite superior skill, judgment, ingenuity, good looks, or enthusiasm, things just aren’t working out.
